


This Is Not A Date

by constantblur



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Sylvix Week (Fire Emblem), just a couple of dumb boys eating wedding cake
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:21:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26590546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/constantblur/pseuds/constantblur
Summary: “You have to come with me,” Sylvain says solemnly.Frowning, mostly at himself over the possibility that he might’ve forgotten something important, Felix asks, “Go with you where?”“Cake tasting,” says Sylvain.It takes a great deal of effort for Felix to not throw his book at Sylvain.Felix and Sylvain fake an engagement to eat some free cake. Written for the Sylvix Week Day 1 prompt: wedding.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 7
Kudos: 98





	This Is Not A Date

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote most of this in kind of a rush today because AAAAAAAA WHERE DID SEPTEMBER GO but hey happy sylvix week everyone!!
> 
> inspired by [this](%E2%80%9Dtwitter.com/abcdrih/status/1301171854195920896%E2%80%9D)

“You have to come with me,” Sylvain says solemnly.

Felix drags his eyes up from his book to see Sylvain kneeling on the floor beside the couch where Felix is stretched out. He’s giving Felix a grave look like he’s just made a dire life-or-death request. Felix racks his brain trying to figure out what Sylvain could be referring to that would warrant needing to beg on his knees, but he’s coming up blank. Frowning, mostly at himself over the possibility that he might’ve forgotten something important, Felix asks, “Go with you where?”

“Cake tasting,” says Sylvain.

It takes a great deal of effort for Felix to not throw his book at Sylvain.

“Cake tasting,” Felix echoes in disbelief.

Sylvain stands up in a burst of movement, immediately starting to pace in front of the couch. “I was going to go with Annette, she made the appointment and everything because we were just—we were _so_ desperate for some cake, when’s the last time any of us has been able to afford to just get some fucking _cake_ —but now she’s sick and can’t go but I’ve been looking forward to this all week, it is literally all that’s been getting me through, but I can’t go taste wedding cakes by myself—“

“ _Wedding cakes?_ ” Felix interrupts, snapping into an upright position. “Bad enough you want me to go eat cake, but _wedding cake?_ ” He scoffs, “Sylvain.”

“Oh, come off it, you eat Lysithea’s cakes all the time,” Sylvain says. “I know you don’t love sweet stuff, but you also don’t hate it nearly as much as you claim.”

Felix flops back into his sprawl on the couch. “Well, I hate it enough that I’m not going to waste my Saturday on it.”

“Felix,” Sylvain says pleadingly. He drops back to his knees beside Felix. “Come on. I know Annette didn’t request anything heavy on frosting or anything like that. You’ll find something you like, I guarantee it.”

“I don’t care,” Felix says, looking back at his book to try to end the conversation. “Stop with the groveling. I’m not going. I don’t know why you’re even asking.”

“I told you, Annette’s sick,” Sylvain says, sounding a little desperate. “And I don’t think anyone else is free on such short notice.”

“So?” Felix says. “Just tell them your fiancée is sick and couldn’t make it to the taste test. You can still go by yourself. Not like you need someone to instruct you on how to eat.” Felix looks over at Sylvain with a critically raised eyebrow. “Or do you?”

“No, I know how to use my mouth, thanks,” Sylvain says with enough blatant innuendo that Felix rolls his eyes heavenward with a heavy sigh. “But I can’t eat wedding cake by myself. Come on, that’d be so depressing. It would completely ruin the experience.”

“And making someone be your fake fiancé just to eat some free cake wouldn’t be depressing,” Felix says, heavy on the sarcasm.

“Eating wedding cake with a friend who cares about me enough to be my fake fiancé would be the very opposite of depressing,” Sylvain says sincerely.

Felix makes the mistake of glancing over again and meeting Sylvain’s eyes.

Sylvain, ludicrously, has this look on his face like what he’s asking of Felix is a matter of urgency, a matter close to his heart, and he knows—he _knows_ —Felix won’t say no to him.

Felix swallows thickly. He hopes it isn’t as conspicuous as it feels. He hopes his face isn’t giving anything away. He hopes Sylvain can’t hear the way his heart thunders in his chest.

Why did it have to be _wedding_ cake?

  


* * *

  


“Oh my god,” Sylvain moans. “I’ve changed my mind. Sorry, Felix, I’m marrying this cake instead.”

“I’m sure you’ll have a very happy minute together,” Felix deadpans as Sylvain shovels another forkful into his mouth.

Sylvain just moans obscenely again. He stabs at the final bite of the vanilla pumpkin cake with marshmallow frosting and finishes it off, already mourning the fact that he will likely never eat this cake ever again. Minute over. Ah, well. Better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all, or something.

“Here,” Felix says, sliding over his piece of the vanilla pumpkin cake. Sylvain almost cries.

“Could I maybe get that boxed up to take home?” Sylvain asks the baker, Anna. She grins, probably because he looks and sounds absolutely desperate, which he is.

“Sure thing,” she says, and disappears behind the counter.

Anna had look confused when Sylvain and Felix showed up at the bakery and proclaimed themselves as her 2:30 appointment, very delicately saying that she had “Sylvain and Annette” written in her appointment log. Sylvain, having anticipated this and put at least five seconds of thought into how to handle it if it came up, had laughed and said Annette was their friend who’d taken it upon herself to set up the appointment for them because—and here he’d been heavy with the use of air quotes and pulling pained faces—she couldn’t trust them to not just get a plain vanilla cake with chocolate frosting since they are “hopeless.” He’d capped off his explanation with an airy comment about Annette being a bit of an airhead and must have given her own name without thinking, perhaps too caught up in requesting cake flavors and wanting to try them herself. Felix had been staring daggers at Sylvain by the time he wound down his overly detailed story, but Sylvain could tell he’d managed to charm Anna into believing him and also possibly into giving them an extra free tasting or two.

Sylvain turns to Felix with a grin. “I know this one’s too sweet for you and is out as a wedding cake, but don’t forget that I have a birthday coming up.”

“I was just going to get you a basic cream pie,” Felix says, “so when I smash your face into it, it’s not too much of a waste.”

“One of these years, you’ll let me actually enjoy my birthday cake without smashing my face into it,” Sylvain says wistfully.

Anna laughs at that as she approaches with a small cardboard box for Sylvain’s slice of cake. “Think he’ll let you get through the wedding reception without your face winding up in the cake?” she asks as she hands the box over.

“We’ll see,” Sylvain and Felix say in unison, in two very different tones of voice.

Anna giggles so hard she snorts. “Gosh, you two,” she says, shaking her head as she walks back to the counter to help out a customer.

Sylvain glances over at Felix, feeling inordinately pleased to find Felix glancing back.

“So, what next?” Sylvain says, clapping his hands together as he surveys the remaining samples before them. “Ginger spice cake?”

“Sure,” Felix says, and accepts a plate when Sylvain passes it to him.

They’ve both tasted it and agreed it’s quite good by the time Anna rejoins them, who makes a note in her book when they tell her so. “Here, try this next,” Anna says, picking up two plates and setting them before Felix and Sylvain. “Lemon verbena cake with white chocolate raspberry frosting.”

Sylvain has an inkling how this one’s going to be received and watches Felix’s face even as he takes a taste of his own slice. Sure enough, the frosting hits Felix’s tongue, and his nose scrunches up in distaste.

“Not a fan of that one, huh?” Anna laughs.

“He doesn’t really like sweet things,” Sylvain says. “The cake itself is really good, though, try it without the frosting, babe.”

Felix does, and hums his approval, which Anna seems to note in her book. Sylvain tries not to levitate out of his seat with the sheer thrill of getting away with calling Felix “babe.”

“Give the pink champagne a shot,” Anna says. “It’s a really popular flavor, goes over well with most people so it’s a pretty safe choice for large weddings. And it’s light, not very sweet at all.”

Sylvain takes the plate she hands him and notices the doubtful look on Felix’s face as he stares at his own slice of cake, pink and covered in cream and fresh strawberries. Sylvain takes a bite, and another, and another as Felix just keeps scowling down at his plate.

“Come on, sugar,” Sylvain says playfully. “Open wide.”

“Do not call me ’sugar,’” Felix grumbles, but he still opens his mouth and lets Sylvain feed him a bite of cake.

Sylvain would say he’s proud of himself for not dropping his fork in surprise, but honestly? For all that he’s rarely dared to flirt—noticeably, anyway—with Felix before, right now it feels so _easy_. There’d been the briefest moment when they first stepped into the bakery that Sylvain reminded Felix—and himself—under his breath that they needed to sell the “newly engaged” thing enough to not get caught and charged for all the cake they were going to be eating, but there’s been no need for reminders since. Not for himself, or, shockingly, for Felix. Sure, they’re more or less just acting as they always do, but when Sylvain put a hand on Felix’s knee, Felix didn’t flinch away, and Felix wiped a bit of buttercream off Sylvain’s nose with a deadpan comment that felt like such an “old married couple” moment that Sylvain’s heart briefly seized up. It’s all exactly the sort of comfortable intimacy that Sylvain’s always imagined they’d have if they were actually dating, and they fell into it with barely a thought or comment.

Sylvain doesn’t know if he should read into it. Would it be a bigger mistake to do that and possibly ruin their friendship, or to just let this all pass by without remark and possibly let the whole thing slip right through his fingers?

“Not bad,” Felix says. He looks at Sylvain. “Our dads would probably have minor aneurysms over us having a pink cake. We should shortlist it.”

Yeah, Sylvain is absolutely not taking a chance on losing this.

He captures Felix’s hand in his, bringing it to his mouth to kiss his knuckles. He doesn’t miss how Felix’s eyes widen a bit—just a bit, Felix has always had a good poker face. “Love the way you think, babe,” Sylvain says with a grin.

“On the shortlist, then,” Anna says, presumably writing that down in her notebook. She glances up past Felix and Sylvain’s heads, expression turning a little frazzled as she notices the bit of a line that’s begun forming at the counter. “Sorry, I need to run off on you again,” she says. “Take your time on these final pieces, I think you’ll really like them both. We’ve got a matcha cake with vanilla buttercream frosting, and a dark chocolate espresso cake with Kahlua coffee buttercream frosting,” she narrates, setting each slice before Sylvain and Felix. “I’ll be back as soon as I can,” she adds, and scurries off to help the other customers.

Sylvain turns to Felix with a smile. “Shall I feed you again?”

Felix levels an unamused look at Sylvain as he pulls a piece of matcha cake towards himself. “I’ve got it,” he says flatly. As he cuts off a bite, he mumbles, “She’s not here, no need to keep the act up right now,” before shoving the forkful of cake into his mouth.

“I liked it,” Sylvain says casually. “It’s nice to get to do stuff like that with you. I’ve been wondering what it’d be like for a while.”

Sylvain takes a bite of his own cake and swallows it down before he dares to look over at Felix. Felix stares back at him, the slightest bit of pink high on his cheeks.

“Good cake,” Sylvain says. “You probably like this one, huh?”

Felix stares silently for another five seconds before he blinks, seemingly breaking the trance as he shifts in his seat. He clears his throat before answering. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s good.”

“Not sweet at all, but the buttercream gives it a good balance,” Sylvain prattles mindlessly. “So even guests that don’t like matcha all that much would probably still enjoy this.”

The pink on Felix’s cheeks darkens a bit. “Yeah.”

“But I think we’ve saved the best for last,” Sylvain says enthusiastically, pulling both plates of dark chocolate espresso cake towards them. “ _Coffee_ -flavored, Felix. I’ll eat my shoe if this doesn’t wind up being your favorite.”

When they’d first become roommates, Sylvain didn’t even drink coffee. But their apartment always smelled like it with how frequently Felix would have the coffeemaker pour out another cup for himself, and eventually Sylvain couldn’t stand having the smell in his nose without the taste in his mouth—except black coffee was so unexpectedly bitter that Sylvain had spat out that first mouthful. He couldn’t fathom how Felix could take down cup after cup of the stuff all day long, while Felix scoffed at the creamers Sylvain stocked up on and started adding to his own cups of coffee. Eventually Felix got curious about some of the creamer flavors though, and while he still takes his coffee black most of the time, Sylvain knows to always stock up on peppermint mocha over the winter and that the hazelnut will always run out before anything else.

It feels like that’s always been the way of things between them: the stark differences mellow out over time and they always, in everything, find some way to meet in the middle.

Sylvain didn’t really consciously do so, but he’s dragged both slices of cake towards himself. He automatically glances up to meet Felix’s narrowed eyes with a grin before he slices off a bite of cake and brings the fork near Felix’s lips. “Indulge me, Fe,” he says.

Felix rolls his eyes and mutters, “Ridiculous,” but then, eyes on Sylvain’s, he parts his mouth and leans in.

Sylvain’s gaze flickers down to watch the probably-more-obscene-in-his-head-than-it-is-in-real-life scene. When his eyes catch on Felix’s again, Sylvain—

Sylvain just _knows_.

He’s wondered for so long if it’s all just in his head, and likely could have and probably would have written everything about today off as Felix being an exceptional actor, but no, this . . . it’s real. Today has been real. It’s always been real.

Sylvain’s brain starts buzzing around. He’s basically on a date with Felix right now. This is a date, when originally it was just going to be him and Annette working themselves into sugar comas over free cake because they were both sad and stressed and just really fucking missed cake. Though Sylvain feels terrible that Annette got sick and had to miss out on this, he can’t help feeling like it was meant to be. The stars fucking aligned, and just because he’d whined to Annette about how it feels like it’s been weeks since he’s had a meal that’s really left him feeling full and, god, what he wouldn’t give to just gorge himself on some fucking _cake_ , he’s suddenly on a date with Felix, feeling certain for the first time that Felix actually feels the same way about him that he feels about Felix. How much longer would it have been before Sylvain had this revelation if things hadn’t worked out like this?

Sylvain almost chuckles. Wedding cake. Of course it had to be wedding cake.

Felix makes a pleased sound as he chews on his mouthful of wedding cake, and Sylvain almost expires on the spot.

“Good?” Sylvain says weakly.

“Good,” Felix practically moans, and Jesus, is he doing this on purpose?

Sylvain stuffs a forkful of cake into his own mouth before he can say something stupid to ruin this. He can’t fuck this up now.

If Felix notices the slight tremor in Sylvain’s hand as he feeds him another bite of cake, he is kinder than Sylvain usually gives him credit for and doesn’t mention it. The tremor slowly goes away as Sylvain works through the entire slice of cake, alternately feeding Felix and himself. He doesn’t touch the other slice: he’ll ask for another box so he and Felix can eat more cake together at home.

Sylvain doesn’t even realize he and Felix have been silently staring at each other until Anna comes back, clearing her throat to get their attention. Sylvain’s gaze snaps to her, and he feels his face heat at the knowing smirk on her face.

“Final thoughts, gentlemen?” she says sweetly, flipping open her notebook again.

Sylvain gives a small cough. “We both liked the matcha,” he says, “but I think we both agree the espresso is the winner.”

He looks over at Felix, who’s looking back at him, nodding in agreement.

“Oh? So you’ve made a final decision already?” Anna says excitedly.

Sylvain comes back to earth quickly. It may not be his smoothest lie ever, but he gives Anna a good story about needing to take some time to consider their guest list and wedding theme to really nail down exactly which cake they want to go with. After making a completely false promise to be in touch again soon, Sylvain asks for another box to pack up the final slice of cake, and with a cheery enough smile to make Sylvain feel a twinge of guilt over the subterfuge, Anna sees them out of the bakery.

Sylvain and Felix walk side by side in silence for an entire minute. It is quite possibly the most excruciating minute of Sylvain’s entire life.

He’s not letting another one go by.

Far more tentatively than he’d been going for, Sylvain says, “So, that dark chocolate espresso, huh? It would be . . . pretty perfect for our wedding, don’t you think?”

He hopes his smile is hitting the right tone, but it doesn’t matter anyway. Felix doesn’t look at him.

Instead, Felix scoffs, “Seriously?”

Sylvain feels his soul shrivel up and vacate his body.

And then Felix looks at him, mouth quirked up in a smirk. “You can’t plan a wedding before you’ve even planned a first date,” Felix says.

Oh. _Oh_. “Do you want me to plan a first date?” Sylvain asks, his tongue practically stumbling over itself in a rush to get the words out.

Felix cuts him an amused glance. “Seems like it’s in order if you’re already thinking about the wedding.”

Sylvain’s jaw just about hits the floor.

He valiantly recovers to quip back, “Maybe you should plan the second date, since I just took care of the first.”

“This did not count as a first date,” Felix says. “I was your _backup_.”

Sylvain opens his mouth to retort, thinks better of it, and closes it. “Okay,” he concedes, “fair enough.”

“Yeah,” Felix says, looking away and crossing his arms, clearly feeling awkward now despite having just been so bold. “So. Get on that.”

“I will,” Sylvain vows. He nudges Felix’s side with his elbow. “Gonna be hard to top wedding cake tasting, though. That was pretty romantic.”

He sees Felix’s ear turn pink. “Not so much frosting on the next date,” he mutters.

“ _Next_ date? So this was a date?” Sylvain can’t help teasing.

Sylvain feels like his pulse is going to explode his heart when Felix glances at him in an unprecedented way: shy and sweet, the faintest flush on his cheeks. “It was . . . something,” Felix says softly.

“Yeah,” Sylvain says, feeling the dopiest smile stretch across his face. “Yeah, it was.”

**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/constantblur_)


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